


arsonist’s lullaby

by foolishclown



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dissociation, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Thoughts, Technoblade Whump (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo is Not Okay, Violence, lots of angst and projecting here my friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishclown/pseuds/foolishclown
Summary: Technoblade knew two things to be true.Number one: He was alone.And number two: He liked it that way.Or, well... he did.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 15
Kudos: 99





	1. some would sing and some would scream

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by arsonist’s lullaby by hozier
> 
> first technoblade fanfic pog 
> 
> TW TW for violence and depictions of dissociation and hearing voices + vague self harm (not acknowledged as it but,,)

Technoblade knew two things to be true. 

Number one: He was alone.

And number two: He liked it that way. 

Or, well... he did. He used to. Then he had Tommy, and Phil, and Wilbur— and then one day he was... alone. Everyone had left. By choice or by force. 

And so he reverted back. Back to isolation and back to convincing himself he liked it. In the middle of a nearly constant winter storm, he was utterly and truly alone, stuck in his cottage unless he wanted to face below zero temperatures. 

The voices seemed to grow louder every day. He reluctantly admitted that it was becoming... difficult to ignore. 

_ Kill them. Kill them. You know you want to. It would be so easy.  _

_ So, so easy.  _

He ran a hand through his hair, realizing just how long he’d let it get. He hadn’t cut it in months.

It had been so long since he’d spoken to someone that he was afraid once he did speak his voice wouldn’t even be there anymore. 

A bottle of amber liquid mocked him on the shelf. 

_ Drink it. Just get wasted. It always helped Wilbur.  _

Techno sighed to himself, putting his head in his hands. No, he wouldn’t stoop to that. The last thing he needed was a muddled mind in this situation. 

_ Do it. Do it. You know you want to.  _

_ Do it.  _

_ Fucking do it.  _

Without realizing it, he slammed his fist into the table as hard as he could, the immediate sharp pain following making him wince. Dear god, he was losing it. 

He stood up swiftly, knocking his chair over as he did, striding towards his room hastily. He was met with a mirror as he entered, his own pathetic appearance taunting him. 

_ Kill them. Kill someone, anyone. _

_ Just imagine it, imagine the blood. All for you. Because of you. _

Images flashed through his mind. His axe cutting into flesh, the aftermath of it splattering on his white shirt, dripping down his already red cape. He leaned over his dresser, eyes unfocused and wild as he rested his clenched hands on the wood. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He couldn’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard he tried. His thoughts raced, growing in violence until he was making himself feel sick with the details. 

_ They deserve it.  _

_ They hurt you. They all abandoned you. They lied.  _

_ They deserve it all.  _

He hit his already bruised hand into his wooden dresser, further injuring himself. When that didn’t satisfy him, he found himself kicking it, slamming his knees into it until they buckled under him, hitting his floor with a dull thud. 

The voices only got louder, tearing into him with everything they had. His own room seemed to disappear around him, instead surrounded only by the horrible images running through him. 

He imagined Tommy, walking through the forest, peacefully living his life. He imagined the way he would scream, the way he would fight in vain against him. The blood would pool around his light blonde hair, ruining it’s purity. He imagined how Phil would feel, finding his own son mangled and destroyed. He wondered if he would cry. Or if he would move on as easily as he did with Wilbur. 

_ Do it. Do it. Do it.  _

He imagined staying around afterwards, waiting until Phil found him, hiding behind a tree in wait until he did.

Then he could rinse and repeat. 

He knew Phil would be harder to overtake. He was extremely skilled, but if he caught him off guard in a moment as vulnerable as that— he could easily win. 

They would match well. Two sets of blonde hair both stained red, lying next to each other.

Phil wouldn’t scream like Tommy would. 

_ Do it. Do it. Do it.  _

_ It would be so easy.  _

It would be so easy. They couldn’t stop him if they wanted to. He knew that. 

He found himself standing out in the snow, holding his axe. Every nerve in his body was on fire, every cell fighting against itself. He shook violently, but he wasn’t cold. He was burning up, his chest on fire. 

_ Just a little further.  _

_ You’re so close.  _

Suddenly, he was no longer in the middle of a snowstorm. Instead, he was in a beautiful flower forest, one he recognized well. 

No, no, no, he can’t be here. He couldn’t stop himself if he was this close, he had to go back, had to go home. 

_ No! No! You’re so close, so close. _

_ Just do it. Just do it. You want to. You know you do.  _

His feet took steps he didn’t even want to. He felt like a puppet, his strings being pulled by someone who was not himself. Every step gave him more relief— but not enough. 

“Techno?” 

The high pitched voice cut through the forest, the accent and infliction immediately giving away who it was. 

Techno froze, axe clenched right in his hand. He turned around slowly, body fighting against his movements. 

“Tubbo?” Speaking for the first time in weeks, his voice was impossibly deep, hoarse and cracking as he blankly stared into innocent brown eyes. 

“Whoa. You sound sick. Are you okay?” The question was genuine, concerned and surprised.

His brain felt like it was on fire. 

He couldn’t even form the words to respond. He just stared ahead, barely blinking. Tubbo took a step forward, folding his hands in front of him politely. “Techno...? Are you alright?” 

Techno shook enough to make his weapon shake in his hands. He shook his head gently, eyes unfocusing and drifting to Tubbo’s feet. He wanted to warn him, tell him to get away, that he wasn’t safe— but he could barely even breathe. His head screamed, loud and overwhelming.

_ Kill him. Kill him. _

_ It’d be so easy, so, so easy. _

_ Kill him. Gut him. Make him bleed, make him **beg**.  _

“Techno? Should I get Phil? What’s going on?” 

Tubbo was within arms length now. Techno felt woozy, out of control. He tried to open his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t even manage that. He was frozen in place, his body disconnected from him. 

Tubbo placed a hand on his arm. 

And everything broke. 

He jerked violently, taking a step back and nearly falling as he did. Without meaning to, he practically screamed, slamming his free hand over his mouth as he did, eyes finally focusing enough to meet Tubbo’s wide ones. Techno shook his head for no clear reason, violent enough to give him a headache. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop it. _Stop_ it.” He muttered to himself, his own brain disagreeing with him. 

_ What are you doing? Stop! _

_ Kill him, he’s right there! Do it! Do it! Do It!  _

_ Do it, do it, do it, do it do do it do it do it do it— _

He dropped his axe, placing his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes tight, dropping to the ground pathetically. He could tell Tubbo was speaking, but couldn’t make out his words clearly. He felt like he was going to throw up, body on fire and entire being shaking. The voices were impossibly loud, overlapping and violent, unforgiving in how they blended into his own thoughts, making it impossible to tell the difference. 

The last thing he remembered was Tubbo’s terrified voice shouting his name. 

Then everything went dark. 


	2. i learned the voices died with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing Techno registered was huge white wings looming over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW TW TW TW for a suicide attempt, talk of suicide, lots of talk of dark subject matter and deception of wounds and such 
> 
> okay... so maybe it’s getting a bit dark a bit fast

The first thing Techno registered was huge white wings looming over him. 

Phil stood in front of him, a worried but calm expression on his face. Techno recognized he was laying down, propped up by a few pillows and covered by a few white sheets. 

“...Phil?” He spoke meekly, his voice small and weak. He felt so strangely dizzy, his thoughts were confused and slow, uncharacteristically so. 

“Hey,” Phil responded, a small smile on his face, “You feeling okay?” 

Techno blinked. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. He had no idea how he felt. Everything felt confusing, like he was just slightly out of touch with everything at once. What was happening? 

_Weak_. 

“Uh... I... I don’t know?” He shrugged slightly, the physical strain of even that small movement almost too much. 

Phil looked sympathetic. He took a step forward, carefully taking a seat on the bed right next to his legs. Techno examined himself, and was met with bandaged arms and an even more bandaged stomach. He looked up to meet Phil’s knowing eyes, and asked an unspoken question. _What happened?_

The blonde took a deep breath, tilting his head slightly as he spoke. “What do you... remember, Techno?” 

Techno shook his head slightly, almost laughing. “Nothing. I just... remember Tubbo... and then nothing. I remember meeting him... and then I just... blacked out?” 

Phil seemed to process that information, taking a moment before responding. “Right. Okay. Well... from what I’m told... you kind of... snapped, yeah? Took your axe and... kind of brutalized yourself. That’s why you’re wrapped up. You... really hurt yourself, Techno. Tubbo said you did it in front of him, too. He said it was like you weren’t even... ‘there’, so to speak. Which makes sense now, since you don’t remember it.” 

The room was deafeningly silent as Techno stared up in disbelief. 

He couldn’t even respond. He didn’t know what he could possibly say. 

“I understand that... i-is probably a lot to hear. But, uh, it’s true. Tubbo came running to me for help, saying you were trying to kill yourself. So, I, uh, got there pretty fast. I’m not sure if that was what you were trying to do, but... you weren’t really responding. I pried the axe away and you kind of just... stared at me. You didn’t fight back or anything, j-just let me pick you up and kind of just went limp. I was worried you had...” He took a long pause, swallowing hard before finishing his sentence. 

“I was worried you had... had died,” He looked away for a moment, eyes glassy.“You weren’t responding at all. I couldn’t tell if you were breathing for a while. You just... went completely still, it was like you had shut down. That was... about a full twenty four hours ago now. You were completely limp and just unresponsive for about ten hours, and then you kind of just... fell asleep. And, uh, here we are now.” 

Techno felt his whole body shaking again. He just stared up at Phil, almost paralyzed. 

“I don’t even know what to say.” 

Phil let out a strained laugh, turning back to look at him again. “Yeah, I don’t blame you, mate. I know that’s a lot to take in.” He shifted nervously, turning to face him more. 

“You know... Tommy’s been asking a lot about you. He’s... worried. Really worried. I imagine Tubbo told him everything, and he keeps asking to see you. I-I told him no, since you were sleeping, of course.” 

Techno just nodded slightly, trying to process that new piece of information. Tommy. Asking about him. Wants to see him. 

_ Good. If he visits you, it’ll be even easier to kill him.  _

_ He deserves it.  _

_ He left you. _

“He... he shouldn’t see me.” 

Phil frowned slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?” 

Techno wondered how he could explain. Oh, sorry, Phil, I can’t see him because little voices in my head tell me to slaughter him! Don’t worry, I’m perfectly sane and fine and absolutely don’t get told to murder you too! Not at all, what would make you think _thaaaaaaat_? 

“Just... d-don’t feel good.” 

Not entirely a lie. He was so dizzy and woozy he thought he was going to black out again, and he was shaking with enough violence that it made his voice shake almost comically as he spoke. 

Phil nodded, clearly understanding that. He was the one who bandaged and stitched him up, after all. Techno was... horrified to imagine what awaited him underneath the many layers of bandages. If he had his axe, and what seemed like at least five minutes alone— it made him nauseated to think of what he would see. 

He had plenty of scars, no doubt about that. But left alone with his axe, fully unconscious of his own actions, with some unknown force in control of him... he’s never had wounds quite like that. 

And he could feel them. Of course, most were likely stitched up well, but not all of them could have been. He hadn’t moved yet, but he knew when he did, he would have to feel them as he moved.And _fuck_ , he didn’t like the idea of it. He wasn’t the most squeamish person, but he hated feeling wounds on him move as he did— that was _not_ okay with him. Strangely, though, he felt... numb, like he had been given some kind of medicine or something. He could barely feel the unbearable pain that he knew he _should_ be feeling. 

“I’m gonna get you some food and water, okay? You think you can eat?” Phil slowly stood up, looking to him for an answer. 

He nodded slightly, wincing as he realized how much his head was aching. “Phil, uh... did you give me somethin’? Like, drug me?” 

Phil smiled slightly at the wording. “Yeah, I did. I figured you would be in some pretty damn bad pain when you woke up, so I gave you a few potions with different purposes. They’ll wear off in about two hours, so you’ll probably need more then. Just tell me if it starts to hurt too much, yeah?” 

“Yeah. Thanks, Phil. Seriously. Thank you.” 

They met eyes and shared an understanding. 

Despite what had happened beforehand, Phil had saved his life, and taken care of him way more than he had to. Techno was genuinely grateful. Beyond grateful. 

“Anytime, Techno.” 

As he left the room, and Techno was once again left alone, everything slowly came back in full force. Voices started to pick back up with an intensity that made his head spin, blinking tears out of his eyes. 

No matter how bad his injuries were, it didn’t matter, he could deal with it. That wasn’t the problem.

But Tubbo. Tubbo had seen him do... this. 

Why did he even do it? 

_ Tried to get rid of us.  _

_ You failed.  _

_ Didn’t try hard enough. Stupid. Weak.  _

_ Failure, failure, failure, failure. _

The voices were all different, different in pitch and tone— some sing-songy and some deep and cruel. They floated around in his head and spoke in layers, echoing and all encompassing. 

He shut his eyes tight, biting his lip hard enough that he broke skin. 

He probably traumatized Tubbo. He at least scarred him. This is exactly why he stayed away from people. This is why he isolates himself. It’s better for everyone. Safer for everyone. 

If he hadn’t done this to himself, he would have done it to someone else. Everywhere he goes he leaves carnage. 

_ Not enough. _

_ Not enough carnage, not enough blood.  _

_ More, more, more, more.  _

He chanced a peek down at his bandages. He was morbidly curious to see what lay beneath, reaching a shaky hand out to begin to unwrap them. Before he could even begin, the door opened, and Phil entered holding a decent sized meal and a cup of water. Techno removed his hand quickly, flicking his eyes up and putting on his best innocent look. Phil clearly didn’t believe it, but said nothing, bringing the plate over and helping Techno sit upright with some effort. 

As he feared, moving caused him to feel the weight of his injuries, feel just how cut open he was. If not for the painful growling of his stomach, he would probably have been to sick to his stomach to eat from the sensation alone. But, the persistent and aching emptiness triumphed over silly emotions. 

Phil didn’t say much as he ate. He tried to offer small talk, but received no response as Techno scarfed down the food. Sometimes he was just a _bit_ more piglin than human. 

After he finished, Phil told him that Techno could stay as long as he needed, which was once again met with thanks. But, as kind as he was, Techno had to leave as soon as possible. There was no choice. He had no time to be sentimental or reminisce. What mattered was their safety, and right now, they were all in grave danger as long as he was around. 

When Techno said he wouldn’t be staying around, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of sadness in Phil’s eyes, but he said nothing of it. It’s better for him to be sad than dead.

_ You’d be better off dead.  _

Techno physically lurched, nearly dropping the cup. He froze for a moment, making a face without realizing it. 

Of all the voices he heard, they had never been... like that. It was always about hurting others, or mocking him, but never... never like that. 

Something in him changed. 

...

Why did he believe it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s... it’s just gonna get worse from here

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for readinggg pls leave a comment if u enjoyed i love comments i read literally all of them hfkfjdjs


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